Sparkle Still
by madelinear
Summary: *sighs* Kinda hard to describe. Alternate ending... just read it and see.


Sparkle Still  


  
Disclaimer: No one belongs to me. Boo.  
Author's note: This has been frolicking about my mind for some time, and I just had to get rid of it. Not one of my better fics. Sorry.  
I did steal the idea of the the final scene from 'West Side Story'  
  
  
  
Christian stood in her doorway stoically. Satine's eyes widened.  
  
"I've come to pay me bill," He leered. Satine shuddered at his tone. Immediately adopting a blasé face, she passed him.   
  
"You shouldn't be here, Christian." She breathed.   
  
Christian stood in the doorway for a moment, before turning and going after her.   
  
He caught up to her rapidly, spinning her around and growling: "You made me believe that you loved me. Why shouldn't I pay you?"  
  
Satine looked at him pleadingly. "Please-"  
  
"She's got to get on the stage!" squawked Marie.  
  
Satine started up the stairs. She had to get away from Christian. That was the only thing that mattered.   
  
Christian grabbed her waist to stop her. He pulled her close to him.  
  
"You did your job so very, very well- why shouldn't I pay you?" he snarled.  
  
Satine broke away and hurried up the stairs.  
  
Behind the curtain, Christian continued the chase. "Why can't I pay you like everyone else?"  
  
Satine shook her head. "Christian, don't." She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, that were met with bitter green ones. "Don't, Christian. There's no point. Just go." She broke away.  
  
A stage hand jumped out at Christian, who pushed him off. Satine was not getting away.   
  
Satine saw that manservant of the Duke's- Warner- lurking in the shadows. She shrieked.   
  
He caught up with her, grabbing her by her shoulders. He spoke softly and dangerously in her ear. "But if it wasn't real-"  
  
Satine was on the verge on tears. "Go..." she pleaded.  
  
"Why can't I pay you?" Christian begged desperately.  
  
Satine peered over her shoulder to see Warner charging at them, with a silver gun pointed at Christian.   
  
Christian pushed her into the curtains. "Let me pay! Tell me it wasn't real." He forced her to her knees, demanding the truth. "Tell me you don't love me. Tell me you don't love me!"  
  
There was a single gunshot, and suddenly both Satine and Christian were on stage.  
  
Christian shuddered and fell forwards into Satine's arms.  
  
Satine gasped, lowering them both to the floor. Her nightmare was now a reality.  
  
From the audience, the Duke grinned.  
  
The rest of the performers looked on in shock. Judging by the looks of pain on both their faces, it was impossible to tell which one was shot and which one was just in pain to watch the other.  
  
Satine held him, pale faced. She stroked his cheek.  
  
"Ow." He said slowly.  
  
Satine looked at the crimson staining the front of the sitar player's suit in horror.   
  
"Oh, Christian, I lied... I lied... I love you. I've always loved you, only you."  
  
Christian looked up at her, stroking her cheek. "And you lied...?"   
  
Satine stifled a sob. "To save you from this!" she hiccoughed.  
  
"It's not... it's not your fault, darling." He stuttered. His breathing was growing shallow and more forced.  
  
Satine shook her head, slow at first but then faster and faster as if she could shake the sight in front of her and reality away.  
  
A tear escaped from her eye and slid down her cheek. With tremendous effort, Christian reached up and brushed it away.  
  
"Never... no..." he whispered. She nodded. Dimly she saw out of the corner of her eyes someone running out._ Please, go get help,_ she begged silently.  
  
Christian whimpered and Satine leaned closer to him, shielding him from everyone's prying eyes.  
  
"Come... what... may..." he murmured slowly.  
  
She pulled him closer. "Come what may..." she whispered into his ear.  
  
"I... will love you... 'til my..." he sang softly. His eyes were glazed with pain. Satine bit her lip to keep from sobbing. He took her hand in his and gripped it.  
  
Suddenly, Christian's eyes brightened. He altered what he would have said. "I will love you... until the end of time..."  
  
Satine sniffled and looked at Christian. "It's true..." he breathed.  
  
"I know." She said, kissing him. He kissed back. "I know... I know... I know..." she whispered in between kisses.   
  
"Suddenly the world is such a perfect place..." he whispered, kissing her again.  
  
And his hand grew limp.  
  
Satine's body felt compressed with her suppressed sobs, that were released once Christian could no longer hear them. Great, gulping sobs.  
  
Every performer removed their hats and bowed their heads in respect, moving away from the destroyed woman and her grief. Only Harold moved closer.  
  
"Liebchen..." he whispered comfortingly, putting a hand on her shoulder. She moved away as if she has been touched by fire.   
  
"Don't you touch me!" she screamed.  
  
She rocked Christian silently, her fingers moving over his face, humming softly.  
  
Suddenly, her tears stopped and she looked up, surprisingly bright-eyed. She looked up, her icy eyes glaring daggers at any and everyone. No one was spared the look, but the two who received the most evil were Warner and the Duke.  
  
Warner was a pawn, doing only what he was told. It was the Duke she really hated. But in Satine's grief-stricken mind, it mattered not. Her previous sensibility that everyone had envied so was gone. She held her hand out to Warner.  
  
"Give it to me." She demanded icily. Everyone stared at her dumbly. What did she want? "Give it to me!" she said dangerously. For years to come, people present would claim that was the most malice they had ever heard in any voice.  
  
Warner silently handed her the gun. She looked around. Her voice became high and carefree. "So, how many bullets are left? Are there enough for you?" she cried, waving it at a group of performers. "And them?" she asked again, cocking the trigger at more. "And you and that sickening man? How many are left? How many people can I kill and still have one left for me?  
  
"It wasn't this moron who killed Christian- it was you- all of you! It was Harold and the Duke and the Dogs and everyone here!"  
  
Satine raised her head imperiously. "You wanted a sparkling diamond." She laughed, a high, false, frightening sound. "Well, see how I sparkle when I'm dead." With a jaunty toss of her head that made her earrings jingle, she held the gun up to her head and fired.  
  
Their story was the basis of many. Many bohemians wrote poems and stories, plays and songs about these two under poetic names. Their names were altered, their identities changed. Phrases rewritten, occurrences fabricated.  
  
But the story remained the same.   
  
Sparkling after death.


End file.
